


Last Christmas | dnf

by ataylorc



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Christmas Time, Christmas village, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Ice Skating, M/M, Mountain home, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Vacation, hallmark shit, lots of festive shit because christmas, this is literally a hallmark movie lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28083081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ataylorc/pseuds/ataylorc
Summary: Ever since the three boys moved in together, Clay and George had butted heads on nearly everything. From household chores to sleep schedules, they never seemed to agree on anything—and Nick had had enough. So, he decided to plan a special Christmas getaway for the two of them. Except he left out one small detail: they wouldn't expect to see the other on the front porch. Will they finally become friends again, or will a little Christmas magic spark a little more?
Relationships: dreamnotfound - Relationship
Comments: 11
Kudos: 83





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> note—  
> I do not ship dream and george in real life, this is absolutely fiction! these characters are separate from them as people, they are just based off of them and elaborated by me to form a plot. thank you for choosing to read my work, i hope you enjoy <3
> 
> *strong language used*

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Luggage hit the icy porch as both boys simultaneously dropped them in a mix of horror, dread, and utter surprise. The chilled air hung still, only traced with two puffs of warm breath. They looked at each other for a few moments, green meeting brown, furrowed brows and open mouths matched. The blonde, closest to the doorway of the beautiful log cabin in front of them, placed hands on hips and turned towards the surrounding mountains. “The better question is, what the hell are _you_ doing here?” he snapped. “I can’t believe this.”

To his disappointment, and furiousness, Clay had seen this coming. The moment Nick had called him, telling him that he needed a break, some time to get away for the holidays, this very scene raced through his head. Only for a second, however. He laughed inwardly at the silliness of even the thought of his best friend setting him up to solve his differences with, what seemed to be, his enemy. Of course, it was something he would do. But truthfully, George wasn’t his enemy: Clay just really hated him sometimes.

The bickering started when the three of them moved in together. The first few months were a breeze: late nights talking, laughs they knew they would never forget. But when schedules began clashing and habits differed, a particular two began to recognize the contrast between each other. At first, it was the little things, like forgetting to wash up the dishes, or getting the wrong type of bread at the store. Clay knew he could get over these. He couldn’t hardly be high-maintenance, right? But his irritation grew more prominent when he was regularly awoken at 3 AM to cabinets closing in the kitchen, or the hall shower being run just before dawn. Sitting up in a tangle of blankets each time, he knew exactly who was the culprit of these disturbances. George’s sleep schedule was practically nonexistent. He felt as if George was the complete opposite of him, and he almost felt like the brown-headed boy did things just to piss him off even more.

On the other hand, George had become quite fed up with Clay’s rigid rules as well. “Clean the counters,” he said, “make sure to be quiet after 11 PM,” he said. George just wanted to live his life like he usually did; he was a grown man for crying out loud. He didn’t need someone telling him what to do all the time. It felt like a parent, always pointing out something he did wrong—the very reason he moved out in the first place. And besides, Clay wasn’t the only person paying the rent, so why did everyone have to go by his rules? It wasn’t fair to George, or anyone, he thought, and he’d had enough. And of course, Nick saw this too, and planned something nice for him for Christmas. That’s why George was standing face to face with Clay, on the front porch of a gorgeous mountain home that he’d _thought_ he would be staying in for some time away. By himself. Without the very person who annoyed him the most out of the entire worldly population.

“I’m calling him,” George said as he turned towards his car, ruffling his hair in anger. _I’m leaving_ , he thought, _there’s no way I’m staying here_. He tuned out the blonde’s annoyed grumbling as his feet crunched on the ground. He leaned against his car as he pressed _call_ on his phone, huffing out a clouded breath when he pressed it to his ear. A few automated rings vibrated against his ear before a painstakingly cheery voice sounded on the line.

“Hello Georgie-“

“What on earth did you do?” George firmly asked, not even giving Nick a second to speak.

“Woah, calm down,” Nick said, feigning surprise, “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Don’t play dumb, idiot,” George pressed, anger growing. “Why is _HE_ here?”

“It’s Christmas, George, people are supposed to spend time with the people they love-“

“I don’t love him. For fuck’s sake, I don’t even like him. Like at all.” George knew Nick was the type to plan surprises, but he never could’ve imagined _this_.

“Well, maybe this trip will help you learn to be his friend again, or at least you’ll be able to tolerate each other.”

George crossed one arm across his chest, tucking his hand under his arm from the cold. “Well, your plan’s not going to work because I’m not staying.”

“Wait, George, c’mon,” Nick said as George was readying to load up his car. “I really wanted this for you guys.”

A slight pang hit George’s chest at the softness of his friend’s words. He knew Nick really wanted them to resolve this whole dynamic, go back to being the close-knit group they used to be. And part of him wanted that too. So he willed himself to say the next few words after a long silence. “You’re going to owe me. Like big time.”

He heard a relieved sigh waver through the speaker of his phone. “Thank you. Now please, tell me you’ll both come back in one piece?”

George rolled his eyes. “No promises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh! i'm so excited for this story!! i really wanted to write a festive fluffy fic for the holidays and i hope y'all are going to like it! a short chapter for the introduction, but i'll hopefully be updating regularly!! 
> 
> enjoy <33


	2. 2

George fully expected to find Clay seated on the couch, angrily scrolling through his phone, luggage already sat in the master bedroom when he lugged his own through the door, but the vast living space was undoubtedly empty. After climbing the polished wooden stairs, he peeked his head in all three bedrooms, the biggest being the last. No bags to be found. This puzzled George. He thought, with no waver, that the bossy blonde would have already booted him to the full bed instead of the king, claiming his territory firsthand. That was always the first thing he did when the three all went on trips together. Just like how he would always call shotgun if he wasn't the one driving, and claim that it wasn’t fair because he was the tallest when the habit slipped his mind. But it seemed as if he hadn’t even entered the house at all. Especially when George heard a car engine start below the window to his right.

Hurrying down the stairs, inwardly wishing that he could just let him throw a fit and leave so he could enjoy this weekend alone, George paced to the front door and quickly pulled it open. He guessed that in his highly unpleasant chat with Nick on the phone his “companion” packed up his car without him noticing. Through the bickering, he must have decided that it wasn’t worth the hassle. And honestly, George couldn’t blame him.

Being careful as to not slip, he made his way down the freezing driveway. “Where are you going?” he annoyedly asked to Clay’s back, who was closing the back door of his car.

“Where do you think? I’m not staying here,” he said without even a glance in George’s direction.

“You can’t just leave,” George said, an expression of irritation making its way across his face.

Clay whips around, keys in hand, eye contact and voice stern. “Watch me.”

A new wave of frustration rushed through George as he clenched his fist. He knew this battle was going to be difficult due to his knowledge of Clay’s stubbornness. “You’d really do that to Nick? After he did all of this?”

“Yes, I would,” Clay opened the driver’s door. “Because this is ridiculous. I’m not spending three days with you.”

George scoffed. “Well, I sure as hell don’t want to spend three days with _you_ ,” George replied, a look of disgust on his face. If he really was going to do this for his friend, it was going to be a long 72 hours. He suppressed the urge to carry on an argument and continued his seemingly useless persuasion. “But he really wanted to do something nice. For the both of us.”

“Stop guilt tripping me,” Clay said, fed up. He didn’t like to be told what to do, and George was getting on his very last nerve. Like always.

“One day. Just one. Then you can leave, and we can at least tell him we tried.” George said, and this seemed to create a glimmer of agreement. Clay stood in place. “He’s just going to keep nagging if you go.”

To Clay’s building annoyance, George had a point. He hated to admit it, but George was actually right: Nick would keep doing stuff like this, forcing them to interact with each other. When he had a goal, Nick wouldn’t stop until he reached it. The same went for making George and Clay friends again. Or at least for them to tolerate each other.

Clay huffed a warm cloud of air and rolled his eyes, unable to believe what he was actually about to say. “Fine. One day. That’s it.”

A long cloud of air left George’s lips as well, but his represented relief rather frustration. “Alright then.” He turned and began walking up the driveway, back to the warmth of the house. “I have the master.” In response he heard an almost inaudible “fuck you” come from the bottom of the hill he just trudged up. He told himself that he needed to stop being so glad at Clay’s irritation. For one day, at least.

The day started out surprisingly well. Since they’d both arrived at noon, they had most of their Friday in their new home for the night. After both took turns unpacking their groceries, of which they only bought for themself as they _thought_ they would be staying alone, the two holed themselves up in their rooms as to avoid any further interaction. If they were going to do this for their friend, who said it actually had to work?

Clay busied himself with editing a new video, one he pre-recorded the night before. It would be his last video of the year, so he wanted to make it special for his viewers. He was glad that he gave himself a lot of work that day since it would keep him from leaving his room until sundown. Looking up from his work after an hour of editing or so, he glanced out the window and noticed the delicate flurries that stuck to the glass. His frustration was easing, and he felt much more comfortable than this morning. He still, however, was annoyed that he had to experience this beautiful retreat with an annoying Brit. _This would’ve been so much better if it were just me_ , he thought wistfully, eyes following the paths of the little snowflakes that began to multiply. A little spark of compliance arose in his mind, causing him to ponder. _What if I just tried to be friends with him?_ He chewed on the inside of his cheek. _How hard could it be?_ He shook his head, a light laugh leaving his lungs. “Yeah,” he said audibly, “there’s no way.” Turning back to his laptop, he resumed editing.

George however, was enjoying the change of scenery. He perched himself on the porch that overlooked the mountains and valleys that shone in the sunlight, dazzling with freshly fallen snow. The setting sun turned the horizon a deep orange, painting its colors on George’s wind-chilled cheeks. Holding his tea mug with two delicate hands, he wrapped his blanket around him tighter and adjusted his beanie so that it covered his ears. His mind was filled with much more optimistic thoughts than his counterpart. _This isn’t that bad_ , he thought. This was the way it usually was, though. On most occasions, George, being the oldest, was the peacekeeper. Or, at least, he used to be. About a year ago, when him and Clay’s relationship actually resembled something other than an acquaintance, George would always bring light to conflict, introducing another, brighter side of things. During his move to America, some complications came around when his things didn’t all show up at the same time, with risk that they were lost in transit. While Clay and Nick were stressing left, right, and center, he counteracted it by explaining to them that everything would be fine, and in the worst case he could replace the things he lost. He always seemed to be the mediator, and he tried to keep that same mindset. But push came to shove, and he quickly retired that role within the friendship.

Taking the last few sips of his now lukewarm drink, George recalled his old self. Even though he despised the presence of the boy who always told him he was doing something wrong, he wished that things could’ve been different. Taking in a deep, chilly breath, he told himself that he would try, really try. He hadn’t felt like himself for the past few months, and he partly missed the friend he used to have. He was tired of arguing—it wasn’t in his character. But it always takes two to argue, so he decided to wait it out, stay neutral until the other started trying too. Maybe they could coexist, learn to accept their differences and tolerate them. As long as he was away from Clay, he believed this 24 hours would prove to go by quickly, be productive almost. This was until George came inside for dinner to find that Clay was already occupying the kitchen.

The sun had set over the mountain home and the space was lit by warm lamplight. Sliding open the transparent door, a draft of flurries followed him as George stepped back into the glowing cabin. He still felt chilly when he closed the door to the high-ceilinged living room, so he knelt down to turn on the gas fireplace. It was only on for nearly seconds before Clay voiced his complaints.

“It’s already hot in here, turn that off.” He said briskly, refocusing his attention to the vegetables he was cutting. He hardly ever noticed, or truthfully, really cared about how commanding his tone was with George. He was definitely aware of it when they first moved in to their new house, carefully planning his speech so that he wouldn’t come off as bossy or condescending. At the very beginning, he tried not to say anything even at all when something was left out of place, or the kitchen wasn’t clean after use. He thought he could get used to the contrasting living routines, telling himself that it was just a few minutes out of his day to clean up. But of course, this didn’t last forever. Weeks went by, things weren’t being cleaned, sleep wasn’t being respected, and Clay wasn’t getting any more tolerant of George’s “immature” way of living. So things started to slip, harsh complaints began to be said, and friendship proved to wither. Now, Clay wasn’t careful about what he said because he knew nothing would ever work.

“No, it’s literally snowing outside,” George replied, a lilt in his voice that he used out of reflex, knowing it instantly drove anger straight through the blonde. He knew he probably shouldn’t be antagonizing the person he was supposed to be making up with, but he allowed his attitude just this once. It was freezing outside after all. He glanced back to the kitchen just in time to see Clay roll his eyes and mumble to himself.

He stopped himself from annoying Clay any further. It had already been a rough start, and he thought back to his deal he made with himself earlier, deciding to start making his own dinner as a distraction from the current situation. This however, irritated Clay even more.

The second George took out the ingredients for his grilled cheese, Clay groaned. “Can you not wait 20 minutes for me to be done in the kitchen?”

“Clay, this kitchen is huge,” George said, continuing to rummage through the cabinets. “There’s plenty of space.”

The younger sighed and went back to making his dinner, working quite quickly. When he finally finished, George was using the stove, and he didn’t even notice the blonde slip out of the kitchen and up the stairs. George was surprised to see an empty table when he turned around, warm plate in hand. He found this quite alright, though, and situated himself in front of the fire, watching the snow fall outside the frosted windowpanes.

Meanwhile, Clay stored himself up in his room once again, reviewing the video he’d just finished editing. This occupied the time it took for him to finish his salad, so he clicked “upload” after the last bite. Sighing with relief that the work was done, he laid down on his back, sinking into the soft cushion of the mattress under him. He opened his phone to scroll through twitter, laughing occasionally at a funny meme. This was usually his nightly routine: upload or stream, eat dinner, and look through social media. He read ever so often, but tonight he needed something to distract him, keep his attention away from the annoyance downstairs. He was just about to get up for a warm shower when a certain tweet caught his eye. It was an old video, a _really_ old one, of him and George goofing off in a call. All they were doing was playing 8-ball and roasting each other, but a pang hit him straight in the chest. _It was so fun_ , he thought. Subconsciously, he caught himself wishing he could have that again. True friendship, one in a million. He stared at his phone, eyes finding the little arrow to send. He still felt responsible for making this trip as unproductive as possible, proving to Nick that there was no fixing him and George’s friendship. He never liked to be wrong, especially when it had anything to do with the brunette. But the same feeling that George had had at sunset crept into Clay’s heart. _One in a million_ , he thought briefly, a sweet but melancholy wave washing over him. Half of him never wanted anything to do with George, but the other half wanted to do anything to have him back. So, he though, _fuck it_ , and typed in George’s contact. Before tapping the blue arrow, he waited. Turning the thought around in his mind, he questioned whether this would hurt his pride too much. _Will I look stupid?_ he thought, _is it even worth it?_ And to this he said out loud, “to hell with it,” and clicked send.

George definitely wasn’t expecting to see Clay’s name pop up on his phone when it sounded next to him. He started at it for a few moments, wondering if it was a misclick. It had to be a mistake. There was no way his mood turned around so quick; it had only been two hours. Usually when Clay was in a bad mood it lasted the whole day, especially if George had done something to make him mad. But there it was, a link to a tweet sitting at the bottom of their conversation. Hesitantly, he clicked the link, bringing up the old video of them. After listening intently, recalling that night, he knew this was no mistake: Clay meant to send this. But the question that toppled around George’s mind was whether this was calling it even or…asking for another chance. He decided to put the thought on hold and search for a festive movie to watch as the snow fell on the mountains outside.

After a few minutes of scrolling through the TV guide, he concluded that live television had the worst selection of holiday movies ever. Just as he was grabbing his phone to head upstairs, a shelf of DVDs caught his eye, tucked away near the fireplace. It didn’t take much sorting through before he found what he considered to be a classic: Elf. It used to be a tradition for the three boys to all watch it together, even if they only could hear each other through headphones. An idea flourished in George’s mind and, boldly, he acted on it.

Just as George was surprised to see the message on his phone, Clay was dumbfounded when he heard a knock on the door, heavy eyes watching one of his friend’s streams. He rubbed them and wondered whether he dreamed it. Surely it wasn’t George. He was the least confrontational person Clay had ever met in his life. But his argument was refuted when he heard a soft voice sound from outside the door.

“You awake?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yayay another chapter!! i'm really loving writing this!
> 
> school just got out for the break so i should be updating pretty regularly. i want to have this done by christmas so expect another chapter very soon! i hope yall enjoyed <3


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